


Darkest Before Doom

by erixstories



Series: The Unstoppable X-Men [2]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:25:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erixstories/pseuds/erixstories
Summary: In the search for an answer to why mutants are being captured by Doctor Doom, the X-Men pull on a thread and have no idea what they're about to unravel.





	1. The Mission

“I’m sending in a strike team.”

Storm stood behind a podium, both hands gripping it as she spoke. In front of her sat close to 80 of the world’s most powerful mutants, commonly referred to as the X-Men.

“If your name isn’t picked for this unit, don’t worry. A mission of this magnitude will require your services in some other area. As most of you know by now, we’ve intercepted plans to capture mutants and bringing them to this containment facility…” Storm clicked a remote and behind her a projection of a penitentiary on Latveria lit up a giant white screen. “...which we know is operating under the instruction of Victor Von Doom. What we don’t know is why.”

Storm stepped around to the front of the podium. “I’m sending in a group to confront and neutralize the threat at its source: Doom’s castle. Jean, Psylocke, Shatterstar, Warpath, and Bloodstorm… be ready by 19:00 tomorrow. Forge, you’ll be manning the Blackbird. I want Cerebra tailing you as well, for backup. We could use some brains on the team…”

The auditorium filled with soft laughter.

Bloodstorm smirked from the front row. “Better watch what you say. I’m rubber and you’re glue. Whatever you say about me, _is_ about you!”

This elicited slightly louder laughter from the gathered mutants.

“I suppose you’ve got me there,” Storm grinned. “Okay folks, that’s it. Like I said before, be expecting me to call upon you going forward depending on what happens with this outing.”

*****

_Whoosh!_

A crescent moon barely illuminated the blackbird as it landed in a large expanse of grass. Seconds later Cerebra’s feet touched down beside the jet, before she crouched next to it to reduce visibility.

Inside the cockpit, Forge disengaged several switches as he announced, “Ok everyone, we’re here. Remember to stay alert as you leave the vehicle.”

“Thank you Forge,” Jean called out as she zipped up a tactical leather jacket with a large red “X” across the front. “Keep the bird warm. We’ll let you know as soon as we need evac.” She pushed a button on a console and the platform lowered for them to exit.

The team paced down the steps single file, as Jean addressed them in a hushed tone. “Remember the plan, team. Psylocke, you venture ahead and scout the castle’s defenses. I’ll create a psychic link, and you’ll report back what you find. We’ll go from there and figure out the best way to take them out and gain entry.”

“...I could’ve created the Psychic link Jean. And why am I always the scout lately?”

Jean rolled her eyes. “Because you’re the ninja on the team. When Elektra joins the X-Men, she can be scout.”

The two women cut eyes at each other, but eventually couldn’t hold back their smiles.

“Fine.” Psylocke disappeared into the night.

Jean turned to Bloodstorm. “Let’s make sure that moonlight doesn’t give us away.”

“Certainly, Jean.” Bloodstorm’s eyes turned from crimson to a brilliant, glowing scarlet as she lifted her hands above her head with her fingertips stretching toward the sky. Dark clouds deftly moved across the skyscape and blocked out all remaining light from the moon. The only light remaining came from from exterior lantern fixtures decorating the castle walls.

Shatterstar stood off to the side, dragging his double bladed swords against each other as if to sharpen the blades.

“You any good with those things,” Bloodstorm mused.

Shatterstar paused and furrowed his brow. “Do you mean am I proficient with these swords? Or do you mean do I use them for good applications as opposed to bad ones?”

“I… Know what? It doesn’t matter,” Bloodstorm resolved. “Let’s just hope you are.” Warpath smiled to himself, pulling out his own adamantium hunting knives from their sheaths and mimicking Shatterstar’s sharpening motions.

“Okay girls and boys,” Psylocke addressed the team through mental projection. “I’m sending you a mental image now.” With that, everyone got a mental visual of the front of the castle. Two Doombots were standing guard alongside the large, ornate front door.

“Copy. Hold position, and wait for my signal,” Jean responded through their link.

*****

Inside the foyer of Castle Doom, all was quiet except for the soft _clangs_ on the marble floor as a Doombot sentry paced back and forth. The robot suddenly stopped, as if his aural receptors were picking something up.

_Boom!_

The entire front wall of the foyer exploded away as a fiery raptor launched through the stonework. When the fire died down and the smoke started to clear, the X-Men could be seen stepping through the freshly made orifice.

“That’s one way to make an entrance,” Warpath snarked.

The castle sprang to life as Doombots poured forth from the various corridors, bustling toward the intruders.

“Come on out, Victor,” Jean shouted as she created a telekinetic wall to shield against incoming fire from the robot assailants. "We need to talk."


	2. Revelations

Rachel Grey stood in the center of the danger room perfectly still, her eyes closed, as she used her psychic powers to probe the air immediately around her. An eerie, pin-drop silence gave way to her shrill shout.

“Again!”

At her command, Polaris from across the room used her magnetic abilities to hurl a dozen scalpels directly toward Rachel’s face within a split second. They came within centimeters of her before being telekinetically deflected.

“What’s the point of all this, red?" Polaris looked nonplussed as she twirled a lock of her emerald hair around her fingertips, before looking at the split ends and frowning.

Rachel opened her eyes and stared blankly for a moment, then collapsed to her hands and knees. Polaris gasped, running over to help her stand.

“It’s these dreams,” Rachel said in a small voice. “I keep having these nightmares about something terrible about to happen. In the dream I’m in a big room full of X-Men. Mom and dad are there, and everyone’s looking at me. They’re waiting on me to use my powers to save them, but I _can’t_.” She looked up and the two women met eyes, before she continued. “It’s like one of those dreams where you’re trying to run, but you can’t because you’re stuck in place. The only time I’ve felt more helpless is when I was a hound.”

Polaris brushed a strand of hair out of Rachel’s face. “I know how you feel. Especially right now with Havok out in space with Scott and the Starjammers, I feel so small. I know I shouldn’t let myself become so dependent on another person, but having him here all to myself recently and then suddenly gone is so… jarring.” Polaris clasped her hands together and looked at the floor. “Sometimes I wonder if my powers are enough. I can only control metal. I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s cool and useful… but I can’t read minds, or control the weather, or turn back time. I can only affect metal, and sometimes I let myself start to doubt if I’m good enough. If my powers are good enough. If I couldn’t just be replaced, easily. I guess what I’m trying to say is, we’ve all been there. But then I realize that we all are given a certain measure to work with, and we have to do the best we can with what we have. And there is no one else out there like me. Not exactly.” She poked Rachel’s shoulder. “You either.”

Rachel looked into Polaris’s eyes. “You are so fucking cheesy.”

Polaris rolled her eyes and held back a smile. “That was a great speech, you bitch.”

The doors to the Danger Room made a whizz as Hellion sauntered in. “Oh, wow, I didn’t realize this was where the sexiest X-Men hang out. Good thing I showed up then, right?” He lifted his shirt and flashed his abs as he winked.

Rachel raised one brow in an expression that said ‘really?’ Polaris’s face turned to disgust. “Shouldn’t you be learning to shave or buying a fake I.D. somewhere,” Polaris shot back.

“Ouch,” Hellion feigned dejection.

“C’mon Lorna,” Rachel interjected. “I think that’s our queue to leave.”

Grabbing Rachel’s arm as the two walked away, Polaris whispered, “His hands are made of metal now. I could make him punch himself in this balls. See? Useful.” 

Giggles could be heard as they exited.

*****

“Victor isn’t welcoming his guests at the door,” Jean observed, fending off the attacks of the oncoming Doombots with her telekinetic powers.

“He has no door, Jean,” Shatterstar remarked. “We blew it up.”

“Warpath,” Jean continued, ignoring Shatterstar. “Can you track him?”

Warpath crouched to the floor and cocked his head to one side. “I’m sensing some heightened activity coming from that corridor,” He said, pointing to his left.

“Ok everyone, I’m going to drop this shield in three seconds. Everyone head for that hall, and be ready to fight these robots off!”

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Ms. Grey?” Doctor Doom interrupted, casually descending a staircase from the second floor balcony. The Doombots all stopped attacking and stood at attention.

“Drop the act Victor. I think you know exactly why we’re here. Kidnapping mutants? That seems a little out of your depth.”

Doom laughed. “No need to forget your manners, Jean. If you wanted to come in, you could’ve just knocked. After all, I’m eager to show off my latest project...” He pushed a button on a device affixed to his wrist. 

_Boom! Bang! Boom! Bang!_ The sound of metallic stomping filled the room. The crowd of Doombots facing the X-Men parted and a singular robot emerged, clanging as it walked. It didn’t look like the other Doombots, but was designed exactly like a sentinel. Dark purple shoulder, forearm, and lower leg armor covered a modular black and silver body. In the center of the chest was a circular transparent crest; inside was a swirling mass of blue, purple, and black resembling a nebula.

“A sentinel,” Psylocke mused. “A little late to the game, Victor. The X-Men cut our teeth on sentinels.”

“I assure you, you’ve never seen one like this before,” Doom bellowed. “And never will again.”

The unusual sentinel raised one arm and pointed its open palm toward Psylocke.

_WHOOOOOOSH!_ A concentrated beam of hideous, swirling light shot forward and hit her square in the chest. She grunted, and her eyes went wide. The X-Men looked on in horror as she started to dissipate outward from the place where the beam hit. There was a swell of heat, a sudden snap, and then nothing.

“Monster, what have you done,” Shatterstar shouted.

Doom laughed snidely. “I’ve only just _begun_.”


	3. Mind's Eye

“Gross,” Quentin thought to himself as he passed Northstar and Iceman in the hall on the way to his dorm. They were caught up in some conversation that probably didn’t have much substance, he imagined. He could psychically sense that the two were in love, but still in the early stages. Lately the idea of love disgusted Quentin. It was a boring, pedestrian concept constructed to placate the weary masses. He had once fallen victim to the false concept of love himself, but that was a long time ago when he was young and stupid. He was above all that now. He hadn’t read the lovebirds’ minds; being as powerful a telepath as he was, he didn’t have to. Wayward thoughts just found their way to his mind, he didn’t go looking for them. The forbidden and exciting nature of prying into people’s personal lives had grown boring to him. Most people weren’t nearly as interesting as they thought they were. But he also didn’t make any real effort to keep those wayward thoughts out, either. It felt like too much effort to waste on such trivial nonsense.

The only thing that interested him at the moment was busting out his brand new copy of Far Sky 6. In a world of things that either didn’t make sense or didn’t matter, entertainment was king. He walked purposefully past the library when he was struck by one of those runaway emotions from someone nearby. Usually he would just ignore it, but this happened to be one of the few emotions that actually intrigued him and justified his attention: anguish.

He could feel himself getting "warmer" as he walked into the library, and he kept moving toward the source of the painful psychic feedback until he found it. Tucked into a window-sill reading nook, trails of nearly dry tears streaming down his cheeks, was young, time-displaced Bobby Drake.

Quentin didn’t approach him directly, but instead sat down at a nearby reading desk and pretended to look up something on his tablet as he probed young Bobby’s mind. He didn’t have the same reservations about invading a person’s thoughts that some of the other telepaths did. He knew something they didn’t: nothing really matters. People try so hard to hold onto their petty, insignificant secrets like they’re gold mines. Quentin knew enlightenment was the only currency that mattered.

A scene formed in his mind, pulled from the recesses of Bobby’s. 

Jean-Paul stood in front of a dresser mirror, fussing with his hair to try to make it look dishevelled (but in a way that didn't look intentional). “Do you wanna see a movie tonight?”

Bobby was seated on Jean-Paul’s bed, leaning up on his elbows. “That sounds like fun...”

Jean-Paul turned to Bobby. “...But?”

“But what?”

“You’re holding back.”

Bobby gave a half-hearted smile and sighed. “It’s just that, Storm may need us for whatever is happening in Latveria.”

“We went on the last mission. You _know_ Storm’s policy about rotating X-Men. She wants us to have down time in between missions. It’s someone else’s turn now.”

“I know, unless she needs our specific powers. Psylocke went on this mission--”

“You mean psycho?” Jean-Paul smirked as he interrupted. “She requested to go again because she’s a kill-happy machine with no social life outside of missions.”

Bobby gave him a playful sideways look.

“Ugh, fine. Psylocke is a good person, technically. Why do I find myself backtracking on my snarky comments the more I’m around you?”

Bobby stood up and walked over to Jean-Paul. “What can I say, I guess I just bring out the best in people.” They looked deeply into each other’s eyes. Bobby reached out and rested his hands on Jean-Paul’s waist, as his eyes fell to Jean-Paul’s lips. “And you bring out the best in me.” He leaned in, and the two men shared their first kiss.

When Jean-Paul opened his eyes, over Bobby’s shoulder he could see young Bobby standing in the hall with an expression of sadness washing over his face. As soon as their eyes met, young Bobby blushed and quickly walked away.

There was a memory thread that Quentin could sense was related to this, and he followed it to a slightly older memory. Young Bobby sneaking into Jean-Paul’s room. Hands exploring in darkness. Jean-Paul waking up. An argument. Jean-Paul kicking Bobby out of his room.

Quentin blinked as he shook off the memory. Rejection; a feeling he knew all too well. He felt a strange sensation on his cheek and brought his fingers up to investigate. Touching a wet spot, he realized a single tear had escaped his eye. He chalked it up to the mental stress it took to navigate through interconnected memories. It certainly couldn’t be empathy. Right?

“Are you… crying Quentin?” He looked up to see Illyana sitting at a table next to his, one eyebrow raised.

“No… I… Fuck off!” In his peripheral, he could see Bobby’s attention on him now. Blushing, he scooped up his backpack and tablet and rushed out of the library.


	4. New Territory

“Forge, get the jet ready for liftoff now!”

Bloodstorm screamed into her communicator with tears streaming down her face as she ran alongside Shatterstar. “We have to get the hell out of here right now Forge. It’s worse than we expected.”

“Copy, Bloodstorm. I will get… Look out!” Forge’s eyes went wide as he spotted Doom’s sentinel swooping down, landing in between the Blackbird and the escaping X-Men. Shatterstar raised his swords and started to charge in a noble attempt, but Bloodstorm held him back as she turned toward the jet. “Forge, go,” she screamed as loud as her lungs allowed. “I’ve got this.” She scooped up Shatterstar and flew toward the heavens as a bevy of bats poured from the shadows and surrounded the pair like a whirlwind. The Robot took a moment to analyze which escapees to pursue. It swatted bats away from its face and fired off a few of its destructive beams before assessing the option of chasing Bloodstorm and Shatterstar as futile. It turned its attention to the Blackbird.

Forge fired up the thrusters that propelled the craft upward, then pulled back on the throttle and propelled it forward. The afterburners burst into action as the Blackbird swiftly shot up into the night sky. The sentinel leapt up and launched itself into the air in pursuit. Forge pushed the vehicle to its limits and the Blackbird screamed through the wind, leaving a trail of condensation in its wake.

_Boom!_

Forge felt the jet shake violently as something struck it. Turning around, his face twisted in horror when he saw the rear of the fuselage dissolving as if being eaten away. The craft continued to shake fiercely, then as the wings began to dissipate it jerked erratically in mid air. Forge used stolen moments to unbuckle his seat belt and launch himself from the gaping hole in the vehicle that crashed into the thick, dark forest only seconds later. Falling into thin air, he closed his eyes as he thought of the expression, “out of the frying pan, into the fire,” and prayed his death would be a quick one.

_Whoosh!_

Forge’s eyes shot open as he felt himself land on something vast and metal. It took a moment to regain his senses. He realized it was a giant sentinel hand. He smiled.

“Good timing, my friend.”

“You looked like you could use a hand,” Cerebra quipped.

Forge frowned as he reflected on the events of the past few minutes. “I just wish we could have been more helpful to our fellow X-Men.”

Cerebra’s inner-workings whirred as she contemplated his words. “I’m sorry Forge, you gave me strict orders to stay in stealth mode until we were called for backup. My programming did not account for an escalation of this nature. I have not encountered that model of sentinel before. He is not like me.”

“It’s not like anything, Cerebra.”

*****

Quentin laid in his bed, sprawled out naked and half underneath the sheets. He woke up horny as usual, but as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes the thought of trying to find an object of desire to be the subject of his fantasy seemed exhausting. He’d masturbated to every girl he found halfway attractive at least ten times over, and he wondered if the release of orgasm was worth the effort it would take to manufacture an imaginary scenario with one of them in his head.

His hand ventured lower until it found its goal. He palmed his semi-hard manhood and gave it a squeeze. He could feel the blood rushing to it as it hardened in his hand. He stretched out both legs for purchase on the mattress as he began to stroke in slow, intentional motions. He hadn’t leaked any precum yet, so the skin on skin friction caused a warm, abrasive sensation.

His mind wandered through the women he’d encountered recently. Amara... Celeste... Illyana, yelling at him in the library. The memory of Bobby’s confused face flashed through his mind. Quentin felt a shiver in his spine as he realized he was still stroking himself while Bobby invaded his thoughts. And yet…

The feeling was so off-kilter. So _dangerous_. 

He let his mind wander, trying to picture Bobby’s striking eyes and smooth, velvety skin. He thought about what it would be like to pin Bobby down and kiss his soft lips, meeting Bobby’s sweet, sensual passion with his own pent up aggression. It felt so foreign thinking about being intimate with another man, but that’s what made it so kinky and exciting. He imagined leaning into Bobby’s neck and leaving a trail of sloppy kisses that gave way to a small bite as Bobby begged to be fucked. 

“Fuck,” Quentin whispered as the image pushed him over the edge and cum spilled onto his abs.


End file.
